


Unspeakable

by xRaevyn



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Boschmity, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRaevyn/pseuds/xRaevyn
Summary: Fall has come for the town of Bonesborough and while Hexside High is abuzz with Halloween fever, one student, in particular, has an affinity for the ghoulish. And while Boscha obsesses over the grim and gorey, Amity seems to be holding something back. Can Boscha figure out what her best friend is hiding before Halloween? Or will it drive a rift between them?
Relationships: Amity Blight & Boscha
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be part of an ongoing AU I plan on writing. I won't give you the details just yet, but I do hope you enjoy the story as it unfolds.

The crisp, dry scent of Autumn hadn’t come fast enough for Boscha Jeroen. She loved the way Hexside High and all the neighborhoods surrounding it went all out for Halloween, the “bodies” hidden inside the leaf piles, the giant spiders in the windows, the monsters and ghouls perched on everyone’s front porch swings. One might think it was her favorite time of year because of football season, where she worked her limbs like machinery to score touchdown after touchdown in the name of the Hexside Banshees. But Boscha’s grin on the field today had a little less to do with drills and a little more to do with what was awaiting her afterwards.

The practice had ended a little later than expected, but nonetheless, Boscha took her time in the locker room, relishing in the dumb, cheap decor her coach had set up, the paper bats, the cotton cobwebs, the fun, cartoony monster-shaped locker labels. This time of year there was a consistent flow of complimentary cider just outside and she always managed to snag two cups on her way out. Just in case she ran into…

“Amity!” she cried out, catching that sight of familiar green in the distance. Boscha knew she’d have to shout if she wanted to be heard over whatever edgefest was playing in those AirPods she had in. Footsteps heavy as she pounded down the sidewalk. No time to rest or slow down if she was to catch up with her best friend. “Wait up!”

“Careful there, B, if you push too hard, you’re gonna pass out,” Amity called back, removing an earbud as she clicked pause on her music. She carefully tucked her headphones away before holding out her hand for the cup of cider she already knew was for her. “How was practice?”

“Oh, you know… Practice,” Boscha huffed out with a shrug as she passed Amity the cider, lungs screaming over the punishment she’d just delivered.

“So I _shouldn’t_ miss it is what you’re saying,” Amity teased, elbowing Boscha playfully as she waited for her to catch her breath. It had been a year since Amity had switched over from football to tennis, a choice her mother assured was better for her. _Less barbarism,_ she’d insisted, _less blood on or near those perfect, unstained hands._

Boscha wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she missed having her co-captain. She liked the attention being quarterback brought her, and the feeling of having something she was good at, but it was always better when Amity was on the field, making passes, having her back, keeping her level-headed.

“What? You don’t miss me?” Boscha batted her eyelashes at Amity, barely able to contain a snicker.

“In your dreams,” Amity said, shoving Boscha again. “You already plague my walk home every other day. You’re like- an apparition.”

“Oooo~ if I didn’t already have plans for a horror marathon, I’d love to be your personal ghost. That sounds fun. Scaring the crap out of everyone, probably living it up in a crypt somewhere, possessing random punks for the thrill of it.” Boscha grinned, wagging her eyebrows. “I bet I’d finally get to see what scares Amity Blight.”

“Suuuure....” Amity took a sip of her cider before she started walking again. “Good Luck with that.”

“So, A, does this mean you’ll come over for movie night?” Before Amity could even answer, Boscha linked their arms together, walking beside her with that same, dumb grin on her face.

“Why do you bother asking, B? You already know the answer. I’ll come over. But we do homework first.”

“Mmm… I’m not agreeing to those terms, but I’m glad to have you over.”

“Why must you be so impossible?”

“You love it~”

What Boscha loved most about this time of year was the reruns of every scary movie she’d fixated on as a kid, every villain with a ski-mask and a knife and a horrible mantra, the fake, shrill shrieks of early gloom and gore, the chocolate sauce blood of black and white terror. The macabre was always so… romantic in a way, a way no one but herself quite understood. Except, perhaps, Amity, who seemed to be the only friend Boscha could get to watch these scary movies with her without having to pull teeth.

She’d given up on Amelia and Cat, who had been far too terrified to go ghost hunting with her last Halloween. And Skara, who had a panic attack during her last movie marathon. But Amity was always so incredibly… calm. Not disinterested, although she did act like she could care less, but as if she knew of some other, deeper, unspeakable evil that these films couldn’t hold a candle to.

What Boscha wouldn’t maim to get a peek at whatever horrible thing there was that could scare Amity Blight. If there is such a thing, anyway.

“Soooo… back on the topic of apparitions, I was thinking we could watch the Poltergeist Heist first? It’s supposed to be really good~”

“You think every horror film is good.”

“That’s not a no~” 

“... It’s not.” 

“That’s the _spirit_ , Blight~”

“No puns, Jeroen.”

“What? Are you gonna… _ghost_ me?”

“Boscha…”

“You’re just mad because your sense of humor _pales_ in comparison.”

“Ugh… You’re _horrendous_.”

Boscha let out a gasp like she’d been struck by a speeding car. Her hand fell on her chest as she stopped on her porch, giving Amity faux-teary eyes. “That is… the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thanks~”

“It wasn’t a compliment, oaf.” Amity rolled her eyes as she followed behind Boscha, the faint outline of a smile resting upon her lips. She liked their bantering. It was the only time Amity ever felt… contested in a way. “You know all these ghost puns… you’re not planning on asking me to accompany you on the haunted town tour again this year, are you? Remember what happened last year? I was positive you were gonna clock the last tour guide just for getting his dates mixed up.”

“He lacked finesse. His retellings were always so lame,” Boscha said with a chuckle. She could keep this up all night if Amity didn’t have a curfew. “I’d do it myself if I could. I’ve got the route memorized. And all the bonus facts! You know I always ace the little quiz at the end. F-for the prizes, of course.”

“And you call me a nerd.” Amity smirked, crossing her arms as if she’d gained some sort of victory before a small detail outside caught her eye. “Hey, is your mom working late tonight? Her car isn’t in the driveway.”  
  
“Uhhh, because you are one, Nerd. And no, she’s probably just picking up dinner on the way home. Did you wanna stay late? It’s Italian night.”

“Pizza isn’t Italian, Boscha. It’s actually Greek. Or Egyptian. Depending on who you ask.”

“See? There she is, the true Nerd™,” Boscha sang, sticking her tongue out as she made her way up the stairs. “If you’re gonna watch movies with me, you’re staying for dinner. I refuse to send you home in the middle of Cannibal Party II.”

“Are we watching the original Cannibal Party first?” Amity asked, her tone dragging only as much as her feet were. She wasn’t sure how many of these cheesy movies she could take in one sitting, but she would politely deal, for Boscha’s sake. “And I refuse to watch movies without at least some time spent studying. I have a test on Monday.”

“A test you’ll ace, no doubt,” Boscha muttered as she reached the hallway leading toward her bedroom. “And no need, II is a prequel. They’re clearly better if you watch them in chronological order. You can really feel Cannibal Fester’s anguish in this one. But we’re only gonna watch it after Poltergeist Heist. It’s the same franchise and all.”

Amity watched from the doorway as Boscha tossed her bag to the floor and scrambled for the many, many DVDs on her shelves. It was, where Amity was concerned, a waste of a perfectly good bookcase. “You know… if you spent less time romanticizing monsters and studying old films, you might have brain power for schoolwork.”

“Ew.” Boscha made a noise akin to gagging. “Just drop the studying bit before you turn into my mom. Why would I wanna stick my nose in some textbook when all the fun is happening on Birch Road?”

“Uh… because your fantasies are eclipsing your reality? You can’t wash away your responsibilities with buckets of corn syrup and food coloring.”

Boscha rolled her eyes and plopped down on her bed. “Lighten up, Blight. We’re having movie night. I think you need a little fun. Your parents are turning you into such a stick in the mud.”

“... Fine.” Amity sat in the space next to Boscha. “But another word about my parents and I _will_ go home.”

“That’s my girl,” Boscha said, before setting up the first movie.

Even if it had started out as just being part of their banter, Boscha did mean what she said. Ever since Amity turned seventeen it seemed like they spent less and less time together. First with the transferring sports teams, then with the piling on extra credit, and the dumb job she was forced to get on the weekends to teach her responsibility or whatever… Boscha just missed a happier, more care-free Amity. The one she was so used to hanging out with. The one who’s smile made her feel… warm inside, like the fresh cups of cider they drank together. Not this Amity who seemed so… luke-warm, self-isolating, distant, almost like she was trying to keep the world at an arm's length for whatever unbearable reason her parents had decided was more important.

About halfway into the movie, Boscha heard the familiar sound of the garage door opening and pressed pause, knowing that the gruesome, ghastly murder about to take place would have to wait until the two of them had their fill of the hot, goey, cheesy deliciousness that awaited for them.

“I’ll grab us a couple of slices,” Boscha said as she slipped off the bed. “Wait here.”

“Nonsense, B. We both know she won’t let you eat in your room. I’m coming with you.” Amity followed Boscha downstairs and into the kitchen where Boscha’s mom was waiting, paper plates in hand.

“Hey girls, how was school?” The older woman glanced over to Amity with a small, fond smile. Even if their moms hated one another, Amity always felt welcome here. Probably because Boscha’s mom took it as a sign of her ‘better parenting’ or… something to that effect.

“It was fine, Mrs. Jeroen. I hope you don’t mind me being here.”

“Quite the contrary, Amity. Having you here means Boscha might behave…. For once.”

“Moooom,” Boscha whined, a small blush brushing her cheeks as she reached for the plates, hoping to hide her face with them. “Don’t you have better things to do than embarrass me in front of my friends? Like- I dunno- eat this pizza?”

“When you’re older, you’ll find nothing is quite so rewarding, Dear.” Mrs. Jeroen chuckled, handing over plates to each of them.

“If you don’t mind, Mrs. J, Boscha and I were in the middle of watching a movie-”

“Of course you can take the Pizza upstairs, Amity! I know _you’re_ responsible.”

Amity grinned and took her share of slices before leading the way back upstairs, Boscha’s eyes rolling behind her all the while. 

“Sometimes, I think Mom loves you more than me.”

“Can you blame her?”

“No.” Boscha’s entire body deflated with an exasperated hiss. “You’re pretty great.”

“Better than your movie monsters?” Amity asked as she sat down next to Boscha on the bed once more, a playful, knowing glint in her gaze.

“Don’t push it, Blight.” 

The rest of their evening went along pretty uneventfully, save a few snippets of commentary here and there about the particularly fake death scenes or dumb jump scares or terrible acting. 

“That’s not what people look like when they’re truly scared,” Amity said in a mildly disappointed tone.

“How would you know?” Boscha sneered. “Quit roasting and watch, Ames. We’re almost at the best part.”

“Because I’ve seen real terror, B.” Amity rolled her eyes. “This isn’t it.”

“Hold the phone,” Boscha said as she paused the movie. “That’s real cryptic coming from the girl who isn’t scared of anything.”

“I’m not,” Amity said with a shrug. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I know what horrified looks like.”

“... Care to explain?”

“Mmm.. Not really,” Amity rolled onto her side, facing the TV screen and avoiding Boscha’s gaze. “Care to press play?”

“Not really,” Boscha mimicked, sitting up so she could have a better view of Amity’s face. “Spill.”

“It’s... Family stuff.” Amity stared at the wall. A breath of silence. She swallowed the globe caught in her throat.

“That’s all?” Boscha knew that stare all too well, the one of a girl who had seen too much in her own home. It seemed like Amity wore it more often than not lately.

“That’s all.”

Even if Amity couldn’t see it, Boscha nodded and reached for the remote. The movie resumed.

After a scene or two longer, Amity began to grow restless in her own thoughts. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you always side with them?”

“Excuse me?”

“The killers. The ghosts. The monsters. The villains. You’re… obsessed. I want to understand why.”

Boscha pressed pause yet again, this time on both the movie and her words, thinking long and hard about what she was about to say.

“They’re… relatable? The need for vengeance, attention, the thrill of being feared, knowing you hold all the power, that it all ends with you. That sort of thing.”

“How is that relatable?” Amity sat up, a small, nervous frown on her face.

“I… I don’t know,” Boscha said, sitting up and hugging her knees. “It just… is? I hate feeling helpless, okay? Is that what you wanna hear? And everyone at school thinks I’m some kind of monster anyway, so why not want to become one?”

“Boscha…” Amity’s gaze softened. “You’re a little mean sometimes but I don’t think you’re a-” Before Amity could finish her sentence, her phone began to ring. She didn’t have to so much as glance at it to know who could’ve been calling her. “... It’s my mother.”

_Of course it was._ Boscha set her chin down between her knees. “Don’t just sit there, A. Answer it.”

It didn’t take much context of the following conversation to know that Amity had to go. So much for movie night.

“I’m sorry, B. I gotta-”

“Go. I know.”

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” Amity placed a hand on Boscha’s own, giving it a small, apologetic squeeze before she got up to gather her things. “I promise. We can take my jeep out for a ride and go last-minute costume shopping at Spectre’s after school. I know how much you love their props.”

“That I do,” Boscha said, a little flatly as she watched Amity move about the room in a mildly reluctant manner.

“Will you walk me to the door or… should I see myself out?”

“I’m coming,” Boscha said, standing up and trying to stretch the disappointment out of her limbs. “Can’t have you getting lost.”

Amity giggled a little at that, a sound that made Boscha smile. “On my way to the door, B? I think you give me too little credit.”

“I dunno, Ames. You already look pretty misplaced to me.”

“Oh, you and me both,” Amity said, rolling her eyes with a smile as she made her way down the hall. When the two of them reached the front door, Amity turned around and gave Boscha a goodbye hug. “Hang in there, B…” she mumbled against Boscha’s chest. If it were up to Boscha, this hug would’ve lasted an eternity. But she knew Amity had to leave so she tried not to hold onto her too long.

“Will do. Careful on your walk home. Don’t let the creepers get you.”

“Don’t worry,” Amity said with a small, secretive smirk as she took one final look at Boscha on her way out the door. “You should probably lock the door behind me. Because they’re the ones who should be scared.”

As Amity’s silhouette grew smaller and smaller in the distance, Boscha couldn’t help but stare. There were so many questions the words had left her with. But for now, they would have to wait until the final hours of twilight laid down its restless bones and the relentless dawn of the next day arose like zombies from an unmarked yet unmistakable grave...


	2. Mayday, B-day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boscha and Amity have a fun day out

Boscha couldn’t wait for class to be over with. It wasn’t like her to want to skip practice like this but Amity had made a promise and it was clear by her absence on Boscha’s walk to school this morning that she had intended to keep it. Her heart was pounding out the remaining seconds like a metronome, and she couldn’t help but tap away at her desk. When the bell rang, Boscha bulldozed her way through crowd after crowd in the halls, knocking Willow and some other students into the lockers on her way to the front of the school.

“Out of my way, Dweebs!”

“Ow, what the heck, Boscha? You got a hot date or something?” Willow called out, rubbing the back of her head to dull the pain.

“Yeah,” Boscha sneered back at her, not bothering to slow her roll, “with your mom~”

Willow stared at Boscha as she trudged on, almost in disbelief that someone could ever say something so moronic. “... I don’t even have a mom.”

“Wh…” Boscha stopped her march, whipping her head around before huffing her cheeks. “W-whatever.” She turned to walk away before she spotted Amity just ahead of her in the hallway, chuckling at her mini-plight.

Amity had been looking forward to the end of the day too, though not so much as to embarrass herself like that. She couldn't tell if the trembling in her gut was hunger or nervous excitement. It was all she could do to keep from mimicking her favorite Boscha expression, that usual dumb grin she wore.

“She’s right, you know,” Amity said as she walked alongside her. “Willow doesn’t actually have a mom. But she has two dads.”

“Wow, really?” Boscha blinked, glancing back at Willow before studying Amity’s face for any hint of a ruse. “That’s…”

“What? Gay?”

“N-no, I-”

“Boscha-”

“I was gonna say-”

“ _We’re_ gay, B.” Amity rolled her eyes with a teasing smirk. 

“Speak for yourself, Ames.” Boscha shoved her away and laughed. “ _I’m_ Pan.”

“That’s on the sapphic spectrum,” Amity said, shrugging. “But that’s not what matters right now, is it?” She jingled her keys in Boscha’s face. “You ready to go for a ride?”

“Am I?~” Boscha smirked, happily following Amity to the student parking lot where her pink jeep was waiting for them, top already down. “And you came prepared? You know I love to cruise. A woman after my own, _sapphic_ heart.”

“Ew. Shut up and get in the car, Loser. We both know your heart is buried in a crypt somewhere.”

“Waiting to claw its way out,” Boscha protested but got in the passenger seat regardless.

“A zombie heart?” Amity asked as she slipped the keys into the ignition. “Moving from your hyper fixation on the dead to the undead, I see.”

“I’ve always loved the undead.” Boscha scoffed. “I love all things that go bump in the night.”

“Forgive me, it just seems lately you’ve been focused less on cryptids and more on killers.”

“Is that why my movies don’t scare you?” Boscha smirked, feeling like she’d solved some unspoken piece of a forgotten puzzle. “Because you’re more of a zombie gal?”

“Ew. No. Rotting flesh? Not scary, just gross.” Amity’s face puckered at the thought of decay. It wasn’t a scent she was particularly fond of and the thought of zombies was almost… laughable to her. “Mindless brain-eaters don’t scare me. They’re just some Hollywood amalgamation of myth and makeup.”

“Ugh. And here I thought I had finally figured you out,” Boscha whined. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” Amity teased as she turned onto the main road. The way to the mall wasn’t a particularly long or busy route, especially at this time of day. But Amity tried to make sure they were getting there in a… timely fashion.  
  


“Woah, slow down there, Ames. We’re not in a street race or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Amity said with a chuckle. “I’m just excited is all. I want to take blackmail photos of you and all the embarrassing costumes I know you’re gonna geek out over.”

“Oh, I’m not putting on anything if you’re not also dressing up, A.” Boscha grinned back at her. “Unless you’re scared of being equally seen as dorky.”

“It would appear we are at a stalemate. Maybe we should’ve invited Skara so she could roast the heck out of how unfashionable and tacky _all_ costumes are. Point out every one of our fallacies. End this dork debate once and for all.”

“No way, Ames. This is an A-and-B-day. Everyone else can C their way out.”

“Smooth, Boscha,” Amity said as she pulled into the parking lot of the SouthEast Mall. “Eyes peeled, I want a good spot close to the door in case you walk away with more than you can carry. I know how ravenous you get on our shopping trips.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Boscha saluted before turning her steely gaze back to their surroundings. “Ah! Princess parking, two o’clock!”

  
“A pull-through?” Amity glanced in the direction Boscha had given to her with a smirk. “Good eye, B. I may just keep you around yet.” After pulling into the spot and cutting the engines, Amity turned to Boscha with a small, playful smile. “So how about a proposal-”

“Oh, Amity, a Prom-posal? I’m flattered but aren’t you a year early? We’re not seniors yet.” Boscha nudged her. "Oooo!~ Or maybe you wanna ask me to the Halloween dance?"

“Not that kind of proposal, Dingus. A proposition.”

“I’m listening-”

“Are you?”

“I am!”

Amity glared at Boscha’s dumb grin for a minute before she moved to slip out of the car. “The only way we’re doing this is with mutually assured destruction, B.”

“What do you mean?” Boscha asked, tilting her head as she rushed to meet Amity on the other side of the jeep.

“I mean that I’ll let you pick my costume if you let me pick yours.”

The world stopped turning. Boscha’s face looked ready to explode with enthusiasm. She couldn’t wait a second further, grabbing Amity’s hand and dragging her inside. “You have a deal, Blight! Oh, this is gonna be so much fun! I already know what I’m going to dress you up as-”

“And I, you-” Amity grumbled, though she was enjoying knowing she had successfully made Boscha’s day. It made up for that look she had given yesterday, the one that was so… defeated. Amity didn’t want that for her in the slightest. Now the two of them were giggling and shoving each other on their way to Spectre’s. “I’m going to dress you up as the true clown you are.”

“Not a murder clown,” Boscha groaned. “They’re so… bland. Just baseline Uncanny-Valley type of crap. Can I be a-”

“Nope. I’m picking you, you’re picking me. Them’s the rules, Jeroen.”

“Amity Blight just said something grammatically incorrect on purpose?” Boscha gasped. “Now I know you’re serious!”

“Can it, B.” Amity shoved Boscha one last time on her way inside. “Now split up and meet me by the changing rooms.”

In truth, Amity hated the crooked capitalism of Halloween, the wretched scent of synthetic wigs, cheap plastics, and temporary dyes, the tacky nylon and polyester itch that came from wearing poorly stitched garments, the acne that usually accompanied all the oil-based makeup, the way the fake blood always smelled like an unmopped factory floor, the color always too bright, too translucent, or too dark for the honest, iron-rot of real blood. Not to mention she hated the way the ‘classic’ monsters had been watered down and driven into a conglomerate of misconceptions. The vague silhouettes mass media produced practically overnight. It wasn’t really horror to her, not the jolty mechanics of the animatronic witches in the window or the aggressively flickering fog machine floor display. The deeper she walked through the aisles the more she was reminded that there were no amount of latex masks or bright clothes she could don to hide from who she was… What she was.

Amity stopped when she reached the kid section and turned back around, catching a familiar glimpse of Boscha’s pink hair in the distance. Good. She didn’t have too much of a chance of grabbing the same costume over here. She skimmed the aisles for something dastardly, but between Ghoulbreakers and goblins, she wasn’t too impressed with her choices. Funnily enough, she found something she liked, something she thought Boscha might get a kick out of, and grabbed for it, moving towards the changing rooms to await her fate.

“So what’s the verdict?” Boscha asked as she approached with a bundle of clothes.

“Well, yesterday you said you felt like a monster, today I say it’s beyond your control.” Amity handed over the werewolf costume with a small, hopeful smirk. Boscha’s eyes flickered like fog lights, bright and wide sweeps as she took in the full view of the costume.

“That’s so… cool! And iconic, because I grabbed you… this!” Boscha held out the bundle of clothes. Looking at it now, it seemed… a gargle of carnival colors, some seamstress’ mismatch of Edwardian, Victorian, Elizabethan, Renaissance, and Medieval. “What unholy abomination is this?”

“You’re a vampire, Ames.”

“...”

“A countess vampire, but still! It was a calculated risk, but I guess now we match!”

“... Thanks, I hate it.”

“I knew you would~ Now come on, let’s put these on~”

Staring down her reflection in the smudgy, scratched up, body-length mirror, Amity’s gums ached. She couldn’t tell if it was the nerves or hunger eating away at her stomach. Nausea burning through her throat suggested the latter but… flashing a fang-filled smile, she couldn’t help but feel… mocked in some way. “A calculated risk indeed,” she muttered, before slipping into the atrocious outfit Boscha had laid out for her. Her sleeves were too vibrant pink for their Edwardian poof, her collar too gothic for the Elizabethan silhouette it took the shape of, the stitching of her skirt far too bunchy and hastily slapped together. Stepping out of the changing room she felt… puffy and awkward. Like someone had taken a circus tent and wrapped her in it. From the other stall, she could hear Boscha practicing a signature howl. No doubt checking herself out in the mirror.

“I feel like a crime on historical accuracy,” Amity said when she caught Boscha coming out of the stall next to hers.

“Awww, you look-”

“Ridiculous. I look ridiculous.”

“I was gonna say… cute?”

“You hesitated!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!” Amity gave Boscha’s ‘90s grunge look a quick glance over. The mask looked a little dumb on her with the way the latex sagged and the faux-fur stuck out wildly. Her stomach churned and, for once, Amity was glad Boscha didn't ask for an opinion because she couldn't break her geeky little heart like this. “Mmm… I’m taking it off. We’re not anywhere close to the same time period, anyway so it just looks... off.” 

“Come on, Amity. We can modernize you if you want!” Boscha took off her mask and shot Amity a pleading puppy look. “At least keep the fangs? They’re a good look for you.”

“... Fine.”

“My girl!”

  
  


Amity entered her stall and took one more glance at her almost-cartoonish reflection, frowning deep enough for the fangs to poke out of her mouth. She shook her head and took the costume off, trying to ignore the throbbing itch of her gums.

“Okay, B. I’m ready. Let’s modernize me,” she said as she stepped out of the changing room, costume bunched up in her arms. 

“That’s the spirit, Ames!” Boscha turned back to the rest of the store. “Let’s find something that suits your tastes. I really like matching with you.”

As Boscha happily skipped through the aisles, Amity set the costume in the return pile, tucking an unopened package into the folds of the skirt before she followed behind, gums still aching desperately.

“Whatever you say, Boscha. It _is_ A-and-B-day.” 

“A and B forever~” Boscha chimed over her shoulder.

“Forever,” Amity repeated.

As Boscha found the aisle she was looking for, she grabbed another pack of fangs. “Man, your look is fierce though. I’m gonna have to get myself a set.”

“Y-yeah.” Amity blushed a little, scratching the back of her head. “I guess so. Though I wouldn’t think too much on it.”

“Nonsense, Ames. You look amazing in those fangs. A real hottie. We’re gonna kill it at the Halloween dance this year.”

“You still wanna go to that?” Amity rolled her eyes. “You don’t even have a date.”

“Don’t need one~” Boscha smirked. “I’ll be rolling heads anyway.”

“Don’t you mean turn-”

“It was a murder joke.”

“Of course it was.”

Amity stopped over a leather choker and some black, pointy, acrylic nails. “How about this? I’m sure the rest of it we can just pull from my wardrobe. A little DIY or whatever.”

“I like how you think,” Boscha grinned. “Maybe I’ll tone down my costume too. To match. I’ll keep the wolf gloves, maybe grab just some ears and a tail, the rest with makeup?”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll meet you at the register.”

“On it!” Boscha viciously dove through the aisles to grab what she needed, putting back what she didn’t and slamming a container of fake blood down on the counter for good measure.

“Will that be everything?” the cashier asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Amity said, already reaching for her wallet.

“Ma’am, you’re missing the packaging for the-” the cashier started to say before he noted the other set of fangs Boscha had placed on the counter. “Never mind, I’ll just scan this one twice.”

“Sure,” Amity mumbled, tapping her card on the counter while she waited for him to finish scanning.

“Your total’s gonna be $63.82. Would you like to donate to our Halloween Hope Fund? If you donate more than $2, your name goes on the board behind me.”

“Trust me, it’s already there.” Amity handed over her debit card. She didn’t have to look at the board behind him to know.

The cashier blinked down at the name on the card. “Oh. You’re a Blight. My bad. Your folks are already sponsoring our charity drive. Have a good day, then.”

As the pair walked out of Spectre’s, Boscha shifted all the bags to one hand while her other took Amity’s own. “Man, your parents are… something else.”

“Let’s not talk about it.”

“Right.” Boscha nodded and cleared her throat. “H-hey, uh… are you hungry?”

“I could go for a… bite, maybe. What’s up?”

“The cookie corner has some fun new seasonal stuff to try. I thought we could get a snack.”

“There’s one in the food court, right?”

“Yeah, this way.” Boscha took the lead, squeezing Amity’s hand so she didn’t lose her as they wove their way through the small crowds of shoppers. When they reached the stall, Boscha pulled out her wallet.

“You covered costumes. Let me get this one, A.”

“Sure, B.” Amity said, taking her hand back as she made her way to the glass case. “Hmm. Give me a couple of those bat cookies.”

“Coming right up,” said the lady behind the counter as she carefully tucked the aforementioned cookies into a bag. “And for you?”

“Oh uh…” Boscha took a moment to let her brain connect her thoughts. “A dozen apple cider sugar cookies for my mom and two pumpkin frosted cookies for me. That’s it.”

“Of course.” The lady behind the counter began counting out cookies in a box before handing off the order to Boscha. “$18.37. Would you like a free sample cupcake? They’re pumpkin flavored.”

Boscha glanced over to Amity who only shook her head. “No thank you,” she said before handing off a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you! You two have a wonderful day.”

“Will do,” Amity said over her shoulder as Boscha led her away once more. “Man, I forgot how much your mom loves cider flavored things. I miss when we used to go apple picking together.”

“Yeah, I miss going to Mack’s! Remember that time you dared me to run the forest path in heels?”

“Uhhh… No, I said, _Boscha, don’t run through the trail without proper shoes,_ to which you said, _I do what I want,_ and proceeded to run the entire length of the path back to the farm in your four-inch heeled boots.”

Boscha giggled as Amity recounted the memory. “Ohhhh, right. You still bought me those maple candies though.”

“Yeah, because I hoped maybe they’d give you a reason to behave,” Amity said with an eye roll. “I still can’t believe you didn’t trip over a single tree root. I fell twice!”

“It was really funny to see you fall flat on your a-”

“Aaaanyways, we should probably find someplace to sit. Y’know. Chow down on these cookies before we jet.”

“If you’re in such a hurry, we could eat them in the car.”

“No offense, but I would rather chew glass than let you get crumbs all over my perfectly clean car, B.”

“Uhh… full offense, A. I’m not a messy eater.”

“You literally manage to get stains on your shirt from a salad. _Without_ the dressing.”

Boscha fell silent. No rebuttal. Amity had won. She found a seat at the edge of the food court, away from everyone else, and sat down, eating her cookie in defeat.

“That’s a good girl,” Amity said with a smirk as she sat down across from Boscha, nibbling on her... confections. They didn’t satiate the hunger she’d been feeling, but at least it was something to distract her.

“So… How’s your cookie?” Boscha asked, hoping to break the silence.

“Fine. Yours?”

“Fine.”

“...Is that what you wanted to ask?”

“... No.” 

Amity chuckled. “Then talk to me, B. What’s up?”

“I’m just… thinking is all.”

“About…?”

Boscha bit her lip. “I... miss you. That’s all.”

“Miss me?” Amity set down her cookie and reached across the table for Boscha’s hand. “Boscha, I’m right here. We’re hanging out. A and B day, remember?”

“That’s not what I mean…” 

“... I know.” Amity sighed. “But do you remember what I promised you?”

“You promised to be there with me, Ames. But you’re not.”

“Maybe not physically,” Amity said, giving Boscha’s hand a squeeze. “But I’ll always support you. You’re my best friend, B. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you are!” Boscha pouted. “You’ve got a job and good grades and full-ride scholarships in your future.”

“Oh, so you do care about homework now?” Amity teased but stopped when she noted Boscha’s face, the tinge of fear in her eyes. “Boscha, we’ve still got a few years left, okay? And wherever I go, I’m not gonna leave you behind.”

“You might not want to, but I know for a fact your parents probably do.”

“Boscha-”

“No, Ames. You’ve been holding me at arm's-length ever since the school year started. I thought I was imagining things at your seventeenth birthday party but it seems like every time I want to get close to you, to spend time with you, to have you around you just... have a convenient excuse. A job. Homework. Curfew. There’s just… something about you that’s changed, Ames. And I want to understand.”

“I…” Amity stopped to think long and hard about what she was about to say. “I-I know it doesn’t make up for it, but I’m sorry, Boscha. I didn’t mean to lose you. But I got so caught up in what everyone else wanted, I forgot what was most important.”

“Yeah, ” Boscha said, avoiding Amity’s gaze as she took her hand back. “You’re right. The apology doesn’t make up for it.”

“Boscha, I-” Amity was about to protest when her phone went off.

“What are you waiting for?” Boscha crossed her arms. “Answer it.”

“...” Amity stared down at her phone before declining the call. “No. I’m not shoving you away anymore.”

Boscha’s eyes widened as she watched Amity casually dismiss her mother’s call for the first time in… well… ever.

“A-Ames, no! That’s your mom! She’ll scoop out your eyeballs and serve them in a kebab.”

Amity shrugged. “Boscha, you forget. I’m not afraid of anything. Besides,” she said, flashing a grin before she picked up the cookie once more. “Today is an A-and-B-day, remember? She can C her way out.”

Boscha beamed as she practically leaped across the table to hug Amity, wiping away the faint outline of tears with her sleeve. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Amity could practically hear Boscha’s pulse in her ear as her head was pressed into her chest. “Y-yeah. I guess so.” Her stomach growled loudly.

“So much for just a bite to eat,” Boscha said with a chuckle. "Come on, Ames. Let’s finish our cookies and go. I know just the spot for dinner. Your treat.”

“My treat?” Amity chuckled. “I guess I do have a lot to make up for.”

“Exactly, now come on!” Boscha shoved the cookie in her mouth and ate it in one bite. “Leshhhgaaaah~!” she spat, dribbling crumbs out of her mouth as she tried to speed eat her way to their next adventure.

“Boscha, slow down, you’re going to choke!” Amity giggled. “There’s plenty of time to eat later.” She placed a hand on her stomach, hoping to ease the bubbling anguish. “Plenty of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the members of S.S.o.B.S for supporting me in writing this fic, and to the random people who have stumbled upon it. I'm sorry for the hell that is about to break loose in chapter three. Be on the lookout very soon!


	3. Just a bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic vampire bite scene

It wasn’t the tapping itself that was bothering Amity, just the fact that the noise was running interference to the internal thrumming she had been fixated on since the two had sat down in this booth, the wild galloping of Boscha’s stallion heart and all of its rapid-fire stomping. It was a marching sound that drowned out all others, incessantly roping the tides in Amity’s stomach. She should feel guilty for thinking about her best friend this way, like some sort of meal to be had, but her stomach wasn’t lurching out of guilt, and her hand settling over Boscha’s own wasn’t anything other than intentionally invasive.

Boscha hadn’t even realized she’d been tapping on the table until Amity moved to still her idling fingers. But there were a lot of things she hadn’t realized. Like how she never noticed just how cold Amity’s hands really were until that touch. Boscha intertwined their fingers and gave Amity’s hand a squeeze.

“Are you cold over there? I can loan you my jacket if you’d like- well- technically it  _ is _ your jacket-”

“I’m fine, B. It’s just the A.C. from the jeep. The vents always make my hands cold.”

“You sure?” Boscha’s gaze began digging a little deeper, looking for any excuse to be helpful, charming. “I can-”

“I’m fine, B. Seriously.” Amity pushed out a grenadine smile, trying to hide her teeth. “Y’know, sometimes you’re so sweet to me, it’s tooth-aching.”

“Awww, Ames~” Boscha chuckled and leaned in, gripping Amity’s hand tight. “Say that to anyone else and I’ll gut you like a fish. I’ve got a reputation.”

“You don’t scare me, Boscha.” _ Because nothing scares Amity Blight except… maybe… herself. _ “I know you better than that.”

“I know you too, A.” Before Amity could say much else, Boscha turned to greet the waitress as she approached, not bothering to wait until she’d readied her pen. “Two cherry Cokes, please, easy on the ice. And make it quick, if you can, my friend over here’s got a bad case of low blood sugar.”

“Absolutely, but uh... We have Peps-”

“Pepsi’s just fine! Please. She gets snippy when she’s hangry.”

“Right away,” the server said, offering a flatline smile before rounding the corner.

“Remind me to tip her seventy percent for having to deal with you,” Amity said with a dry chuckle, tugging on Boscha’s hand when she noted the tension in her gaze didn’t ease up a little. “Hey, I’m okay, B.”

“You look a little pale, Ames. Are you sure you’re not getting sick?”

“Oh, you know I’ve never been sick a day in my life. If you’re so worried about me, why don’t you come over here?” The words escaped Amity’s mouth before she could stop herself. She shouldn’t be  _ doing _ this, luring Boscha into the jaws of her ravenous hunger. But as Boscha moved from one side of the booth to the other, as the veins on her neck inched ever so closer, as Amity began to tune into the delicate pooling and pulling of Boscha’s blood, she felt… calm. “See?” Amity said, letting Boscha put an arm around her, letting herself be buried in the burning warmth. “I’m just fine.”

“Cherry Pepsi, easy on the ice,” the server said as she rounded the corner with two glasses. “And are you two ready to order or should I give you a minute?”

“We’re ready,” Boscha assured. She didn’t need to pick up a menu to know what she wanted. She’d been to this diner a thousand times by now. “I’ll have a burger with everything on it. Extra pickles and mustard. Medium rare. She’ll have a-”

“Steak. Sirloin. Twelve ounces.” Amity sat up, pulling herself out of the daze of Boscha’s neck that was occupying her attention. “ _ Bleeding. _ ”

“So a medium-rare patty, all the fixings, extra mustard and pickles, and an ultra-rare steak.”

“Sounds about right,” Boscha chimed back.

“Alrighty. We’ll walk a cow right through the kitchen for ya,” the server said with a wink. She and Boscha laughed. Amity didn’t.

When they were alone, Amity rested her head against Boscha’s shoulder, her vision once again narrowing to the bulge of veins in Boscha’s beefy neck.  _ It would be so easy to drink her dry right then. They were in the corner of the restaurant, tucked away. The only one who knew they were there was the server and Amity could deal with her as soon as she rounded with their meals. But it would make such a scene of herself. A spectacle she’d never hear the end about when she got home. If she got home- _

“Hey, whatcha zoned out on?”

“Hmm? Oh- Nothing. Just… thinking about the dance.” A lie said with a shrug, but Boscha didn’t need to know that Amity had been planning her hypothetical murder.

“Oh? I thought you thought dances were lame~” Boscha elbowed Amity playfully.

“I do,” Amity admitted, shoving Boscha back.  _ That’s right, Ames. Distract Boscha and you’ll distract yourself. _ “But maybe… less lame if you have someone to go with. And I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier? About us not getting to spend as much time-”

“ _ Duh. _ That’s why we’re going together.” Boscha had thought that was obvious.

“Well,” Amity said with a blush. “N-not  _ together _ -”

_ Oh. _ Heck- did Boscha accidentally insinuate something more? Not that she would mind something more but only if Amity was comfortable with that… “R-right, I didn’t mean to  _ imply _ -”

“N-no! That’s not- I know you didn’t mean-”

“Of course! We’re  _ best friends _ , Ames. No one’s gonna think-”

“I don’t care what they think!” Amity interjected, before pausing to backtrack a little. This was a disaster. “I-if they t-think that we’re-”

“ _ Together? _ ” Boscha offered, though it wasn’t much help. “As in…?”

“Yeah. Who cares? You’re my best friend, B. Everyone knows that. Plus, we rule this school.” Amity placed a hand on Boscha’s cheek. “A and B forever, remember?”

“Wow, Blight.” Boscha giggled and placed her hand on Amity’s own. For once it was like she’d almost had what she wanted. Almost. “That’s _ so  _ gay.”

“Hey, Jeroen, I have a secret for you,” Amity said, leaning in close. She could practically smell the blood now as her lips hovered over Boscha’s ear. “I _ am  _ gay.  _ Very  _ gay. The  _ gayest _ . Boys? Never heard of them. Nope.”

Boscha burst into laughter, barely able to contain herself. She had no idea of the imminent danger that loomed just over her shoulder. She shoved Amity back into the seat as she tried to catch her breath, unable to keep the tears from flowing at how hard she was laughing.

“Okay, Ames. I get it. You’re gay for me. You can stop now.” 

“Woah! Hold up, I never said I was-”

“I mean- I get it. Have you  _ seen _ me?” Boscha took a moment to flex with a toothy grin plastered across her face. “What’s not to love?”

“Ugh.” Amity rolled her eyes and shoved Boscha once more, this time ushering her out of the seat entirely. “Go back to your side you weirdo.”

“Playing hard to get, Ames?” Boscha wagged her eyebrows but respected Amity’s need for space as she returned to the other side of the booth. Perhaps she had been a little too forward. But it wasn’t like the signs weren’t there. Boscha wasn’t imagining the way Amity had been looking at her, right? “We both know there’s no need for that.”

“And why is that, B?” Amity leaned over the table, taking her straw and peeling away meticulously at one end of the wrapper.

Boscha had been mirroring Amity’s movements subconsciously, though her will was still entirely too wild and unpredictable, as evident by the way she brought the unwrapped end of the straw to her lips, shooting the wrapper directly into Amity’s face, trying to break up her concentration. “You know I only tease you because I like you.”

There it was, that directness that left Amity feeling so unsure of what her next move should be. She wrinkled her nose at the oncoming projectile and retaliated with one of her own. “Wow, Boscha,” Amity said in a mocking tone, “that’s gay.”

“Hey-” Boscha started to protest but before she could say anything the server rounded the corner with their meals. There was always something in the way.

“Here you are, Ladies. One burger and one steak. Is there anything else I can get for y’all?”

“Not at the moment, thank you,” Amity said, handing the server a genuine, thankful smile, grateful to have lasted this long without tearing into Boscha instead. Even if it was to avoid the conversation they were both skirting around. She took to her silverware and made quick work of the meat before her, her gaze targeting signs of sanguine, her mouth a waterfall begging to spill over.

Amity tearing into the steak wasn’t as carnal of a scene as one might assume, but she needed any amount of blood in her mouth to satiate the burning in her throat. It was a short-lived lull. A dance she was having with herself. She would take a bite and feel the drench on her tongue and chew until her gums stopped aching, only to have her stomach roll in protest at the bovinian substitution. But there was no replacing this. No satiating her need to sink her teeth into flesh until she was whole again. 

Across the table, Boscha ate her burger unknowingly. How could she know the true macabre of the act happening just before her eyes? She wasn’t a part of it, after all. At least, not for the moment. “Must be good to shut you up like this, Ames.”

“It’s enough,” Amity said with another liar’s shrug. “How’s your burger?”

“Great~ Not as great as me, but-”

“Not this again, Boscha.” Amity groaned, rolling her eyes.

“You can beg me to stop… or you can admit that I’m great.”

“I’d rather just snap your neck,” Amity said, a little too plainly for her own tastes. She took another bite of her steak and chewed until she felt… as calm as she could be. “Why do you want me to say it? You already know what I think.”

“Do I?” Boscha raised a brow, popping a french fry in her mouth. “Because it feels like we’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Doing what?” Amity raised a brow. “I’m not sure I follow-”

“How’s everything over here?” The server said, poking her head around the corner.

“It’s just _ fine, _ ” Boscha said, not breaking eye contact with Amity. Just as she felt she’d finally started to address the elephant in the room, there was always something to interrupt her. Perhaps it was best for them to let sleeping dogs lie. Her brows caved in first, and then her tone. “We’ll just take the check.”

“Did you-” the server started to say before Boscha held up her hand.

“Just the check,” Boscha insisted, her gaze softening, but still not moving from Amity’s own. “ _ Please _ .”

Amity watched the server whip around the corner, the gravity of it all tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Boscha…”

“It’s fine. Look. I think I should get caught up on homework. Why don’t we go home after this?”

Amity nodded and wordlessly took one last bite of her steak, feeling a lump in the back of her throat as she swallowed. As soon as the checkbook was in her field of view, she poached it from the server’s hand with a quick apologetic glance before handing her a debit card. As soon as the server was gone, she was cursing herself for not paying in cash so she could leave this awkward, senseless tension sooner. Instead, she watched Boscha scarf down the rest of her burger and shrug on Amity’s old letterman with a half-hearted stare.

The drive back to Boscha’s had been full of static. Not radio static, no, the stereo had Amity’s lo-fi playlist on shuffle, but the kind of static that exists only between two people with everything to say and no words to say it. Her hunger hadn’t vacated the back of her throat just yet so the edge of silence felt… sharper than normal. Despite the wind and the music and the occasional passing car, Amity could still hear the faint sound of Boscha’s heart skittering across her ribs. Amity pulled up into the driveway, making sure to leave space in case Mrs. Jeroen came home from work, and as she turned off the car. It was all she could do to keep her eyes straight ahead. Boscha sat there for a moment, collecting her things, and her thoughts, resituating them so they were easier to carry.

“Let me help you with that,” Amity offered, taking the box of cookies from Boscha while she struggled to open the side door. Boscha didn’t argue, just wordlessly nodded a thank you before hopping out of the vehicle. The two of them walked to the front porch, the sounds of their footsteps peeling away at the silence that was falling into place with the setting sun. Amity took the other shopping bag from Boscha while she started searching for her keys. Once the door was open, Boscha moved to take the box back, setting it on the credenza for her mother to find. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she turned back to face Amity, a small, hopeful smile on her face.

“I uh… should thank you for today, Ames. I’ve missed doing this.”

“Me too,” Amity said, offering the other bag back to Boscha. “I know Mother will likely kill me when I get home, though.”

“Who said you have to go home?” Boscha said, fidgeting with the bag in her hands. “I could always use your big brain to help me study.”

“I-I thought-”

“I always want you here, Amity.” Boscha took Amity’s hand in hers. “Always.”

Amity knew staying was a bad idea. That much was certain from the tidal wave building up inside of her. But she couldn’t say no to the face Boscha was making, the one where those gorgeous silver eyes of hers pulled on her like gravity. Amity slipped out of Boscha’s grasp just for a moment and made her way back to the jeep, grabbing her bag before meeting Boscha at the door to take her hand once more.

Hours slipped past the two of them without much thought. Boscha had done exactly what she said she was setting out to do. It surprised Amity to see her best friend so focused on studies, especially if it meant less time for them to goof off. But neither had checked the clock since they arrived, content to let the hours melt through their fingers like the tail end of Summer. Boscha’s mother had poked her head in, once to thank Boscha for the cookies and a second time to check if they wanted any snacks. Amity had been trying to ignore her hunger as it had almost been lulled by tonight’s carnage, but the second Mrs. Jeroen brought up food, she remembered the steady pulse beside her and her jaw slackened just a little.

“No thank you, Mom,” Boshca said, not bothering to look up from her calculus homework. “We’re all good.”

Amity rolled onto her side as soon as the door closed, losing all focus on the textbook in front of her as her gaze fell upon Boscha’s neck once more. They were alone now… it would be so easy… “Hey, B?”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna… take a break?”

“God, yes.” Boscha groaned, sitting up and throwing her hands back through her hair. “Math hurts my brain.”

Amity couldn’t help but giggle. Even when her focus was elsewhere, she was still the same old Boscha. It almost distracted Amity from the hunger. Almost.

“Maybe you should empty out your brain of all the useless horror film trivia, then you would have enough room for simple equations.”

“No way! And there is nothing simple about Calc, Ames.”

“Wanna bet? Hand me the pencil and I’ll show you.”

Amity began darting through the equations, breaking them down into simpler parts and easier steps for Boscha to follow. “See how much easier that is? One step at a time, B. Don’t overthink it.”

“One step at a time,” Boscha repeated, taking the pencil back as she leaned over the scratch paper to look at Amity’s work, tracing out the steps with her eyes before she glanced up with a small, radiant smirk. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“What?” Amity chuckled. “Because I can do math?”

“No, not just that. You’re just…” Boscha sighed, looking for the right words. “Perfect.”

“Everybody has flaws,” Amity said, tilting her head. Currently, hers was thinking about how incredibly close Boscha was and how it was taking everything in her not to follow her instincts.

“Not you,” Boscha said, leaning in a little more. “Not to me.”

“Boscha…” Amity had started to protest but before she could find what to say, she couldn’t say much of anything. Boscha had closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together. Amity’s brain stopped functioning. She didn’t need to think about this. She kissed back, closing her eyes and letting the ache in her gums subside over the soft touch. 

Although Boscha had hoped Amity would kiss back, she hadn’t entirely expected her to. So you can imagine her giddiness as she eased Amity down onto the bed and crawled over her, kissing her again and again and again. She was blessed with the gift of pressing herself against the only person in the world she ever really cared about. But the longer Boscha loomed over Amity, the more Amity was tempted toward something darker. Boscha couldn’t see the danger, not in the way Amity bit her lip or the way her touch crawled down her jaw, not in the way her fist bunched at Boscha’s shirt, the unclenching of a jaw wound entirely too tight, the thing just beneath Amity’s skin, the monster she would succumb to-

A pair of twin pricks to the neck. Boscha hardly felt it. Though she was not entirely meant to. Amity could hardly hold herself back any longer. The hot iron taste of blood ran down her tongue and filled her in a way nothing else would. There were tears in her eyes but she couldn’t remember when she started crying. She gripped Boscha’s waist, holding her steady so she could run her tongue along the wounds, halt the bleeding, stop herself from draining her entirely. She eased her down into the spot next to her, and waited for Boscha’s dazed expression to fade, for her to wake and realize the monster she had let into her bed.

But Boscha was hardly afraid. She reached a hand to her neck and felt the wounds as they were closing over, the itch much like a rather large mosquito bite. Her brain was foggy but she knew, at that moment, watching Amity wipe the blood from the corners of her mouth, what it was she had done. 


End file.
